


Pack behavior

by amusensical



Series: Forging a Bond [2]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Broken but not lost, Canon Compliant, M/M, Past Trauma (Unspecified), Possible Spoilers after Episode 115, Puppy Carter, They hate me there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusensical/pseuds/amusensical
Summary: During the last days of their quarantine, Carter sits cross-legged, or with his legs stretched out in front, or with his head in his arms, dozing on the side of the cot. More often as the time wound down, Barnes lays his hand against the back of Carter’s neck, curling thumb and fingers against the muscles there that still stood out with tension.
Relationships: James Barnes/Howard Carter
Series: Forging a Bond [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079369
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Pack behavior

There were three days left in quarantine, and for hour after hour they sit. Carter drags rug after rug over to the spot next to Barnes’ cot and pushes them into a sort of nest. He sits cross-legged, or with his legs stretched out in front, or with his head in his arms, dozing on the side of the cot. 

Barnes sometimes lies on the cot, head on his hand, a book spread open in front of him. Mostly he sits on the edge of the cot and holds a book in one hand, reading aloud. The other hand grips Carter lightly, by the shoulder usually. More often as the time wound down Barnes lays his hand against the back of Carter’s neck, curling thumb and fingers against the muscles there that still stood out with tension. 

Barnes knows when someone is coming by Carter’s sudden tense alertness. Moments later the sound of steps echoes in the corridor, and Carter is stood at the bars. The routine was the same, day after day, but Carter still waited for something to happen, for someone to arrive.

They eat the hummus and flatbread only after they strip for the guard’s silent inspection. 

The books are military treatises, descriptions of battles and detailed discussions on tactics. Barnes sometimes snorts at a particularly florid paean to Meritocratic cleverness or the heroism of some dynastic knight. Carter looks up at the sound, pausing the game of solitaire or the dagger tricks that keep his hands busy. Barnes narrows his eyes, either in amusement or disgust.

“Do that these days, you’d end up dead.” 

“What do you mean?”

“No one parleys. There is no safety under a flag of truce. There’s no protection for prisoners.” Carter ducks his head, and Barnes smooths his hand over Carter’s back, from the top of one shoulder to the other, back and forth. 

“But you’re with me now. And with the others. And they won’t know what hit them. If we can ever goddamn find them.” 

The day they get out feels like a holiday. Carter packs and repacks his knapsack, folds and refolds the blankets, stacks the rugs. He paces along the wall of bars until Barnes steps up beside him next to the door and catches Carter’s eye with his calm gaze. Carter stands still then, and they wait together. When the guard opens the door, Carter is watching Barnes, and steps through after him, and follows him away from the cell.

In the front room, Barnes’ blue jacket is hanging on a hook, over his sword belt. Barnes traces the tip of his finger along the grip of his sword before lifting jacket and belt from the hook, buckling the belt around himself and shrugging into the jacket. His eyes when they meet Carter’s have lost their waiting look, are shining with some bloody purpose, and Carter grins in answer. 

“Can we go out now? Can I just, I don’t know, just run?” Carter steps to the doorway, into the midday sunshine. 

Barnes looks to the guard at the desk, and translates the somber nod into a quick lift of his chin toward the door. Carter is out the door in two lanky steps, dropping his pack onto the shallow porch and down the steps in two more. He is running when he hits the dirt street, leaning forward and accelerating with each step. When Barnes steps out, Carter is already a hundred yards away, in full stride, the sound of his footfalls the only noise above the susurration of the unending desert breeze. 

What could be called the main street ends within view, and when Carter is even with the last of the buildings he loops around and runs back, as fast as he ran away. He stops at the steps to the jail building, panting, looking up a Barnes with relief.

“Gods, I feel like I haven’t been able to _move_ in so long.” 

“Didn’t know you could run like that. That could be useful.”

“Yeah? How? Really? What are we going to do?” Carter is stopped there, but his feet shuffle, as if he is getting ready to take off again.

“First we have to go back to Cairo. Wilde is there, and the others, and we’ll find out what happens next.” 

Carter is suddenly still. Barnes can’t tell what makes him watchful, whether it is the thought of Cairo or the mention of Wilde.

“More?” Barnes asks.

“Yeah. I guess. It just feels so good to let loose. And there’s nobody here, at all?” 

“Only a few people still live here. They don’t come outside during the day much. That keeps us safer when we have to use the jail. The ones traveling with us will show up later.”

Barnes places his open hand on Carter’s arm. “Go on then. You can go into the empty places if you want. Only the empty ones, though. Come around to the back of the building when you’re done. There’s a shower.”

The sun is a bright smudge halfway down the sky when Carter comes around the corner of the building. He must have picked up his pack from the porch, because he swings it by one strap as he heads to the small shower enclosure under the cistern. 

There’s a bark of surprise from Carter when the cool water sluices onto his head. Once the rush of water ends, he steps out of the shower area with one of the linen towels around his middle. On his way toward Barnes he stops and shakes his head, and drops fly from his mop of curly hair. When he sees Barnes, he grins, as relaxed and jaunty as he’s been since they were on the road. Barnes can’t help but smile back before looking back at the papers delivered to him by the guard.

Carter sits at the other end of the bench and starts rummaging through his pack. “So, Cairo. Why did you go to the trouble of getting me out of jail there if you were just going to take me back?”

“You’re not going back to jail, if that’s what you’re thinking. We need something from the bank there, and you are the person who can help us get it.”

“What do you mean, something from the bank? Do you mean the bank, or do you mean what’s under the bank? Because I already screwed that up, so I don’t think I’m that person.” Carter is pulling clothes from his pack, not looking in Barnes’ direction at all. “I mean. You know. They don’t want me near that place. So. I don’t know, maybe you should just leave me here.” 

“Carter. Hey.” Carter turns toward Barnes but his eyes are down and his shoulders are taut and hunched. “Come here.” Barnes places his hand on the bench, palm up, inviting.

Carter doesn’t look up, but side-steps down the bench. He stops just next to Barnes’ hand. “I could do it, you know. I know that whole place. But I can’t go back to jail. Not alone. And they hate me. But I could do it.”

Barnes’ hand closes over Carter’s upper arm, his knuckles against the bare skin over Carter’s ribs. “I know you can do it. We’re going to figure out how to do it.”

Carter doesn’t look up, but leans his head against Barnes, the damp curls a cool spot on his shoulder. “You. Can tell me how. You can.” 

“I will,” says Barnes. “And you’ll be so good. Now go get dressed. The rest of them will be here soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title and interactions inspired by [Training-Your-Dog-and-You](https://www.training-your-dog-and-you.com/Dog-Training-Phases.html)
> 
> A very special more-than-friend used to wrap their hand around the back of my neck. It can be casual, comforting, somewhat controlling, and quite disproportionately intimate.  
> I've given this gesture to Barnes, for Carter.


End file.
